


butterfly wings

by RedHalcyon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Third Year Hinata Shouyou, Third Year Tsukishima Kei, hinata does his best and tsukishima suffers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHalcyon/pseuds/RedHalcyon
Summary: Hinata rummages in his bag, tossing a towel and crumpled homework and empty snack bags to the floor until he finds what he’s searching for.He scoots across the bench in a quick move until he’s right in front of Tsukishima, and thrusts his open hand in front of him with a confident grin.Tsukishima stares blankly down at a palmful of multicolored, butterfly-shaped clips.“Are you stupid?”--In which they are third years, Tsukishima's hair is long, and Hinata just wants to help.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 17
Kudos: 196





	butterfly wings

Tsukishima blows his hair out of his face for what feels like the millionth time this practice, sweaty strands sticking irritatingly to his forehead in the summer heat. Why he’d decided to keep it long in his third year, he has no rational explanation. He’s seriously considering pulling a Tanaka and shaving it all off before Coach Ukai threatens to do as much if he catches Tsukishima missing a spike because of it. Not that he would. Kageyama would probably gut him first if he had the _audacity_ to miss because of something like that.

He rolls his eyes.

Sue him for being vain, but Tsukishima quite likes the way his hair gets wavy as it gets longer. It’s not like volleyball has any rules about keeping one’s hair short. Hinata’s stupid floppy bangs have only grown over the last two years as well, and it doesn’t seem to bother him one bit — except when Tsukishima or Kageyama decides to grab him by the head and _yank_ when he’s being annoying.

Nevertheless, it’s unpleasant. The next time he heads over to the bench for a water break, Tsukishima also rustles through his bag in search of the headband — not unlike the sort Azumane used to wear — he stashed in there at some point. A scowl grows on his face as Tsukishima rifts through his items and sees no trace of it, wondering if it had slipped out somehow or if he’d left it in a jacket pocket.

Standing up from where he was hunched over his bag, Tsukishima is even more annoyed than he’d been before. Whatever, practice would be over in an hour, and he’s endured worse.

Of course, because Tsukishima apparently doesn’t deserve peace, “worse” looks at him curiously from the other side of the bench, Hinata pausing as he drinks his water to ask, “Lose something?”

Tsukishima idly waves a hand and mutters, “Don’t worry about it,” raking an agitated hand through loose blond locks.

The words Tsukishima has just said clearly don’t exist in Hinata’s vocabulary, because if anything, his hawkish eyes only focus more as he notices Tsukishima’s tense movements. Seriously, crows aren’t an adequate enough bird to encapsulate Hinata’s monstrous senses.

“Is your hair bothering you? I guess I didn’t realize, but it’s getting pretty long, huh?” Hinata hums thoughtfully, tapping on his water bottle. Tsukishima watches him boredly, wondering what he’ll suggest.

At some point in the past, Tsukishima wouldn’t have given Hinata the chance. He’d scoff away the concern and tell the shrimp not to waste his singular braincell on things that don’t concern him.

But, well. They’re third-years now, and while Tsukishima wouldn’t jump at the chance to call Hinata his friend, he doesn’t antagonize him the way he did before, either. Not that that means Hinata is exempt from sarcastic remarks when he does something truly ridiculous in front of Tsukishima’s eyes, which is still more often than not. He just doesn’t feel the need to criticize Hinata for breathing anymore.

“Oh, hey!” Hinata exclaims, entirely too loud. “I have some of Natsu’s hair clips in my bag!”

Hinata rummages in his bag, tossing a towel and crumpled homework and empty snack bags to the floor until he finds what he’s searching for.

He scoots across the bench in a quick move until he’s right in front of Tsukishima, and thrusts his open hand in front of him with a confident grin.

Tsukishima stares blankly down at a palmful of multicolored, butterfly-shaped clips.

He takes back what he said about criticizing Hinata.

“Are you stupid?”

Hinata gapes, eyes dropping to his hand and back up to Tsukishima’s face. “What? They’ll work, won’t they?”

“I’m not wearing those.”

Hinata narrows his eyes then. “Oh, I get it. You think they’re girly! You’re too cool to wear these, huh?” He huffs, standing up and closing his palms into petulant fists. A few of the clips fall and clatter against the gym floor. “What matters more, not looking girly, or being able to see your spikes and blocks?!”

Tsukishima holds his hands up placatingly, raising an eyebrow. “Calm down, geez. It’s not that big a deal. I’ll get proper clips and a hairband for tomorrow. Thanks for the offer, but no.” He stands up, ignoring Hinata’s glare and jogging back onto the court. Leave it to the shrimp to make a big deal out of something that doesn’t need to be.

◑

When he enters the club room the next day, the temperature already too warm for eight in the morning, Tsukishima promptly wants to turn back around.

Because Hinata can’t leave things alone, and is sporting a multitude of colorful clips in his unruly hair, leaving his forehead bare and his eyes clear. The picture of nonchalance, Hinata only hums to himself as he grabs the last remaining loose strand and pins it above his ear with a butterfly so orange it practically blends in with his hair.

Tsukishima averts his eyes and heads to his locker, feeling fortunate that some of the second years have arrived and they aren’t alone. Hinata doesn’t spare him a glance on his way down to the gym.

Something about Hinata’s appearance really bothers Tsukishima. Like, it’s annoying. Maybe it’s just that the bright colors add on to the annoying exuberance Hinata always displays. Maybe it’s that he’s clearly trying to prove a point to Tsukishima about not caring if he looks girly as long as he can see. It’s not like Tsukishima thought that anyway. Hinata just looks like even more of a child than usual.

Either way, Tsukishima pushes down the irritation in his stomach as he changes into his club shirt and shorts, waiting for the others to arrive.

He is unprepared for how things only go downhill from there. As Tsukishima laces up his volleyball shoes in the gym, Yamaguchi calls out a, “Morning, Tsukki!” from the doors, and Tsukishima regrets looking.

To see his best friend _also_ wearing those stupid butterfly clips, when his hair isn’t even that long — is in fact _shorter_ than it had been their first year — almost sets Tsukishima off. But then he remembers that not only is he a third-year and supposed to be somewhat rational, but also that if he reacts, Hinata will only get more satisfaction from it. Not one to ever give Hinata that kind of edge on him, he schools his face into something neutral.

“Hey.”

Yamaguchi raises an eyebrow. “You look like something is bothering you.”

“Nothing at all,” Tsukishima smiles sardonically, wondering when exactly Yamaguchi had received the clips when he wasn’t in the club room before Hinata had arrived. _Whatever_ , he thinks. He did actually bring his headband today.

Kageyama joins them not much later, and Tsukishima has to admit he’s relieved to see the setter isn’t _also_ wearing clips. That would have clashed way too much with his stoic and kingly image, no matter how much Kageyama had warmed up to being a team and having friends in three years.

To Tsukishima’s ire, Kageyama doesn’t even take a second glance at Hinata and Yamaguchi when he sees them. It’s as if nothing bothers him as long as he can play volleyball.

Practice begins and they make it through spiking, receiving, and serve drills with no problems. It isn’t until they break into three-versus-three practice matches, switching out players every set, that Tsukishima’s solution falls apart.

His headband keeps slipping on the band of his sports glasses, and when he readjusts them so the headband sits underneath, his glasses make it dig into his head uncomfortably. He leaves it on anyway, figuring he’ll forget about it when he starts to play. Not for the first time, he thinks that he’s endured worse, remembering his first year game against Shiratorizawa and playing with a freshly-set dislocated finger. He’s going soft if something like a hairband can throw him off.

Clearly, though, his annoyance is still showing. Tamano, a second-year wing spiker, glances at Tsukishima from his left.

“Are you okay, Tsukishima-san?” Tamano asks, knees bent at the ready for Coach Ukai to blow the whistle.

“Just fine,” Tsukishima responds, rolling his neck in a circle. Worrying his underclassmen over something that is literally such a non-issue that it’s laughable wasn’t really in his plans. He meets Tamano’s eyes and nods just to reassure him that much more, because Tamano is the doubtful type. He seems satisfied with that, and turns back to the net at the whistle.

Tsukishima shares his side of the net with Kageyama, who serves, while Hinata and Yamaguchi are on the opposition. Yamaguchi pulls off a clean receive — Tsukishima takes a moment to feel pride, because he’s _really_ gotten good at that — to their first-year setter Ito, who puts up a high toss for Hinata.

Tsukishima reads him as well as he always does, and times his block to meet Hinata at his peak. The ball bounces off his wrists with a satisfying smack and hits the ground on the opposite side, but absurdly, all Tsukishima sees is the ridiculous wiggle of all of Hinata’s hair clips as his feet hit the ground and the impact makes its way up to his head.

Tsukishima stares at Hinata for a moment, who only scowls and flashes his eyes the same way he always does when he’s stuffed, before clicking his tongue and making his way back to his spot. He decidedly ignores the annoyed “Stupid-shima” aimed his way.

The set continues, both sides racking up points and making their way around the rotation, and Tsukishima hardly feels the press of the headband anymore. There was never anything to worry about in the first place. Now he doesn’t have to face a future in which he has a buzz cut.

It’s his side’s set point, and Tsukishima runs up from the back row for a synchronized attack. Kageyama puts the ball up for him, pinpoint accurate as always, and Tsukishima has a good feeling.

Then, his headband slips, and his bangs fall into his face right as he reaches his contact point.

 _Shit_ , he thinks.

He botches the spike, and Hinata botches the receive.

That is, he receives it with his face.

Along with the unpleasant smack of the ball against flesh and bone is the sound of several pieces of plastic falling to the wooden floor. Tsukishima looks down to see Hinata groaning, head haloed by half of the butterfly clips that had previously been in his hair.

 _Uh_ , Tsukishima thinks. _Well… Serves him right_.

◑

Because Tsukishima’s not a complete dick, he elects to take Hinata to the nurse himself. It had been his fault, after all.

Maybe he was a bit distracted by more than just his hair.

“That really hurt,” Hinata pouts, glaring up at Tsukishima as he presses the ice pack given to him by the nurse to his cheekbone.

“Sorry,” Tsukishima replies dryly. “My bad.”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “No kidding.”

Tsukishima fiddles with the now-removed headband in his hands, not knowing what else to do while waiting with Hinata.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so stubborn, y’know!”

“What?” Tsukishima says, looking back down at Hinata. “Stubborn about what?”

“Your hair, duh. Didn’t it get in your face again? Captain’s gonna be _maaad_ ,” Hinata teases, lightly kicking Tsukishima’s foot with his own.

Tsukishima kicks back. “As if. It’s just one practice game, Yamaguchi doesn’t care.”

That reminds him.

“Speaking of, why does he have your clips?”

“Yamaguchi?”

“Who else,” Tsukishima states, glaring.

Hinata shrugs. “He thought they were cute, wanted to try.”

“So it has nothing to do with convincing me?”

“I don’t need help convincing you,” Hinata says, puffing up his chest. Tsukishima thinks he looks ridiculous, red-faced in pain and orange hair dotted with the remaining clips. The accessories do make Hinata look about seven years younger than he is, and it _is_ cute… in a childlike way.

“Really?” Tsukishima drawls. “What’s the plan then? You haven’t even been that annoying about it like you usually would be.”

Hinata’s eyes glint. “Don’t you know, Tsukishima? Words don’t work on you, so—“

Dropping his ice pack, Hinata unclips an orange butterfly from his hair. Before Tsukishima knows it, Hinata leans up in front of him and puts a hand to his face. He gently tucks a lock of hair back toward Tsukishima’s ear and clips it in place, sitting back down to admire his work.

“There!” Hinata says, clapping his hands twice as if to get rid of imaginary dust. “Convinced!”

Tsukishima shakes his head, as much to deny Hinata as to shake off the sudden touch. To his surprise, the clip, and his hair, stay in place.

“I’m not convinced,” he says, raising an eyebrow. Tsukishima too leans forward, snatching another clip from Hinata’s hair and closing it over the tip of Hinata’s nose. The green butterfly’s prongs dig into the soft skin there, and Hinata crosses his eyes to see it.

“Rude and unnecessary,” Hinata says, unimpressed.

“Yes, you are.”

“You—!” Hinata lunges, more hair clips suddenly in his hands like weapons at the ready, and Tsukishima ducks.

To his credit, Hinata actually does manage to snag a few clips in Tsukishima’s hair, since Tsukishima can’t push Hinata back by the face due to his injury, and the nurse’s office is only so big. He accidentally latches one onto the top of Tsukishima’s ear, and that’s when he grabs Hinata’s wrists, realizing they’re both laughing. Tsukishima’s face feels warm.

“Geez,” Tsukishima breathes, “you are relentless.”

“Thanks!” Hinata chirps, opening and closing clips in both hands, acting menacing as if they’re full of fangs.

“Wasn’t a compliment.”

“But it was, though!”

At that moment, the nurse appears again to check on them and gives the two an odd look. Well, good thing Tsukishima doesn’t care about reputations. In his periphery, Hinata still looks red.

The nurse says they’re free to go and advises Hinata to ice his face when he gets home, so they get up and leave to head back to the gym.

Tsukishima sighs, reaching up to remove the clips haphazardly stuck in his hair, when Hinata smacks his hands away.

“Leave them!”

“Hinata, they’re a mess. It wouldn’t even help like this.”

Hinata stops in his tracks and stares resolutely up at him. “Let me fix it, then!”

And in the face of that resolve, is there really any reason for Tsukishima to say no, other than to be difficult?

Which is how Tsukishima finds them sitting face to face on a bench outside the practice buildings, with Hinata gently clipping back his bangs, laser focused.

 _Why did I agree to this?_ Tsukishima wonders, bemoaning his lapse of judgement. He affixes his gaze to a knot on the bench to avoid looking at Hinata’s too-close face, but he can feel the burn of Hinata’s stare in his cheeks.

Tsukishima lets his eyes fall shut to enjoy — _no_ , he thinks, _to ignore_ — the warmth, and Hinata’s hands methodically working through his hair.

“I do this for Natsu all the time,” Hinata says, interrupting his own content humming. “But her hair’s longer than yours, so it’s a bit easier.”

“You probably don’t need as many for her then,” Tsukishima observes.

“Nah,” Hinata sighs, “but she pulls them out all the time because she likes to look at them more than she likes to wear them.” He laughs softly. “Guess I don’t need to worry about that with you.”

Tsukishima snorts. “Can’t believe I’m getting the little sister treatment.”

“You should feel honored!” Hinata says, flicking Tsukishima’s ear.

“You big siblings are all the same.” Tsukishima thinks of Akiteru seeing him like this and grimaces. He hears a snicker in response, but then the hands in his hair go still.

Tsukishima opens his eyes, gives Hinata a questioning look. His concern quickly turns into foreboding though, as Hinata’s pensive face turns into a smug grin.

“Well, I _am_ older than you, huh?” Hinata boasts. “By what, three months?”

Tsukishima groans.

“Maybe I should call you Kei!”

A choking noise escapes Tsukishima’s throat, and the warmth in his face from before turns into a flame.

“Don’t—! Do that! Do not do that.” Tsukishima stumbles on his words, waving a hand in front of Hinata’s stupid smirking face. Since when does Tsukishima get caught off guard like this?

“Hmm,” Hinata taps his chin, pretending to think about it. “Tsukki, then?”

“ _Dear lord_ ,” Tsukishima groans, scooting out of Hinata’s space. “Call me that again and you can say goodbye to your hands.”

Hinata scoots after him, moaning, “Noooo, Tsukishimaaaaa!” He grabs Tsukishima’s hands. “Then how will I put clips in your hair?”

“You don’t. It’s a win-win situation. Except I get both the wins.”

“Then you have to promise me you’ll put them in yourself!”

Tsukishima stares at him. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so ready to lose your hands? What about volleyball, huh?”

“I’ll always have volleyball, but how can I be sure you’ll let me clip your hair again?” Hinata pouts him, genuinely seeming to dislike the idea of _not_ being able to do Tsukishima’s hair. Distantly, he registers just how absurd this is.

“Oh my god,” Tsukishima says, rubbing his hand down his face. “Fine, okay? You can clip my hair. Next time, or whatever.” He glances away from Hinata’s beaming face.

“Also, we’ve been gone from practice for way too long. Let’s go.”

Hinata gapes, as if he’d somehow forgotten _practice_ , and that’s a first, isn’t it? Tsukishima does not want to think about it, and he starts walking back to the gym without another look at Hinata on the bench.

Hinata squawks, as he always does, and is back by his side in a flash. Tsukishima rolls his eyes and presses a hand into the top of Hinata’s head, ruffling his hair in what can only be a fond gesture.

Of course, Tsukishima’s life is one of misfortune, because when they walk back into the gym, Hinata is smiling broadly, Tsukishima’s hair is clipped up with nearly all of the clips that had been in Hinata’s hair save for a singular green butterfly, and Tsukishima is stupid.

He does, in fact, understand the knowing looks he gets from Yamaguchi and Yachi. He doesn’t care to know what the underclassmen are thinking, Tamano’s usual doubtful face now full of disbelief, and Ito’s pinched face looking laughably like Kageyama’s own.

He feels stupid throughout the rest of practice, as the butterfly clips perfectly hold his hair out of his face, and he can get a clear view of Hinata’s victorious face even as Tsukishima slams a spike past his block.

He feels stupid after practice, when they’re changing in the club room and Tsukishima tries to give the clips back. Hinata says, “Keep them, Natsu has plenty,” and Tsukishima’s feeling only worsens when Hinata murmurs, “They look cute on you, after all.”

He feels stupid, coming back home while Akiteru is still around and has to swallow down a hysterical laugh if he doesn’t want to meet a painful death by Tsukishima’s hands.

He feels stupid that night as he looks at an orange butterfly clip on his night stand and thinks about the sun and a smile, but he doesn’t mind all that much, in the end.

◑

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello, thank you for reading! this is my first haikyuu work and my first time writing in quite a while, but tsukihina has grabbed me by the heart and wont let go. i hoped you enjoyed this silly thing!
> 
> the clips look like [this](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/71QsdQSsLXL._SL1000_.jpg) btw
> 
> you can find me on twitter at [tigerjawed](https://twitter.com/tigerjawed) where i talk a lot and also draw


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